The Raven and the Blade
by Purple Eyed Cat
Summary: While the Famous Trio was out searching for Horcruxes, Hogwarts was being taken over by cruel tyrants. This is the story of the once-clumsy boy from Gryffindor who led the rebellion within the walls and the "loony" girl from Ravenclaw who gave him hope.
1. Part 1: Repeat Offenders

**A/N: Welcome to "The Raven and the Blade!" This is my latest Harry Potter piece, and it bears some explaining. **

Like many of you Potter fans, I went to see Deathly Hallows, Part 2 at the midnight premiere. It was an amazing movie, and one that will be definitely watching again. However, in that movie, one thing caught my attention. It was a line from Neville during the Battle of Hogwarts that I nearly missed, it was spoken so quickly.

Neville: I feel like I could spit fire! Have you seen Luna? I'm mad about her; figure I should tell her, since we'll probably both be dead by dawn!

That line gave me pause. What was this? Movie!Canon Neville/Luna shipping? I knew that in the books, JK Rowling had made it clear that Neville and Luna had both married different people. However, in the movie, the final scene of Neville and Luna sitting next to each other in the remnants of the Great Hall, looking awkward and unsure, solidified it for me. I had to explore this pairing more.

Thus this story came to be. Told in four parts, and strictly movie canon, it follows the brief snippets that we did not see while the Trio was out hunting horcuxes. If this Neville/Luna pairing is true within the context of the movie, there had to be background. A good relationship does not just spring out of nothing. There was more to this surprise pairing, I could tell. This story is my imagining of such events.

**Summary: While the Famous Trio was out searching for Horcruxes, Hogwarts was being taken over by cruel tyrants. This is the story of the once-clumsy boy from Gryffindor who led the rebellion within the walls and the "loony" girl from Ravenclaw who gave him hope. Neville/Luna, complete. **

* * *

><p>Part 1: Repeat Offenders<p>

"And so, you must all understand that Muggles are very dirty creatures, and should not be tolerated at any cost. Pure blood wizards are above them, you know, and as we are superior, they must bow to us. They have spent too many years chasing us into hiding, fearful of their ignorance! Now, it is our time to seek revenge!"

Neville Longbottom shifted in his chair, attempting to arrange his features into something resembling interest in treating Muggles like animals. He watched Alecto Carrow pace at the front of the room, spouting the platitudes of the Dark Lord and the joys of torturing Muggles and Mudbloods, pretending that he truly cared about the filth that was pouring from her lips.

Every so often, he would allow his gaze to flit around the room, taking in the expressions of the other students. Many stared blankly at the wall behind Alecto, but a few looked nauseated, and Neville felt his pity turned to concern—if they showed too much feeling, they would be targeted by the pseudo-professor prancing with macabre delight before them. The Carrows had no qualms about torturing students who disobeyed or showed any sign of compassion for Muggles, or inquired into anything that was not Dark Magic. Neville still bore the signs of the last time he had crossed Alecto's brother, Amycus, when the latter had demanded that he use the Killing Curse on a young second-year who had dared to cross him. Neville's back still ached from the beating he received, but the life he had saved had made any pain worth it.

"You!" Alecto had paused in her monologue to survey her timid and almost empty classroom. The first year under her scrutiny quailed, and Neville realized that she looked ill, disturbed by Carrow's loving speeches about torturing Muggles.

"You look as if the idea of killing Muggles does not please you. Could you tell me why?"

Neville stiffened at the coaxing tone Alecto used. Much like Dolores Umbridge, it was when she was appearing at her most gentle and kind that she was most dangerous.

_Don't fall for it, don't fall for it, don't believe that she could be kind…_

Ah, the innocence of the young. The first-year shook her dark hair out of her face, and some of her timidity faded at the smile Alecto offered, twisted though it may be. "I don't like," she said loudly, as a murmur swept the room. "My mother is a Muggle, she's not an animal!"

_Bugger_. Neville closed his eyes in horror at the young girl's answer, his heart sinking in his chest. This would not end well, for him or the girl. If she wanted to leave this classroom alive, he would have to do something.

A mocking snarl twisted Aleco's lips as she towered over the girl. "Not an animal? Are you sure? I've found that Muggle women are often bitc-"

"Professor," Neville called out, grinding the word between his teeth. He hated to use that revered title on such a disgusting human being, but the consequences would be harsher if he did not.

Standing, he found he had drawn Alecto's attention away from the young girl, whose eyes were wide, trembling with fear and the realization that she might be now facing punishment for voicing her opinion.

The witch's eyes narrowed as she studied him. "Yes, Longbottom?" Her tone was silky and cautious—both the Carrows had learned over the past year that at Hogwarts, Neville Longbottom would not pass up a chance to deflect punishment away from younger students. He also had a habit of nearly inciting riots, and the Carrows had learned to use caution when confronting him.

Leaning against his desk and affecting a casual tone he didn't feel, Neville found his gaze locked with hers. "Professor, you hate Muggles."

Alecto's beady eyes glinted. "At last you seem to understand something in my class Longbottom, very good. Yes, I do hate Muggles."

"Yes, Professor," Neville agreed, straightening and letting his wand slide into his palm. "I have one question, though: Do you hate Muggles because you and your brother both have some Muggle blood? How much do you have?"

The handful of students that were in the room all shifted in their seats, and a low murmur rippled around the room. Neville saw eyes brightening, and smiles twitched at the edges of lips—the first signs of hope he had seen in a class in weeks.

However, as Alecto failed to answer, the students fell silent, and Neville felt the room thicken with tension. He refused to lower his gaze and tightened his grip on his wand, idly wondering what the punishment would be for defending oneself against a professor. Would he be hauled to Snape's office, or just executed on the spot?

"You dare," Alecto suddenly spat, raising her wand, " to imply that I am less than pureblood?"

Her words ended in a shriek, but the young man before her refused to flinch. "Yeah, I am," he said calmly, as if they were discussing the weather. "I want to know how much Muggle blood you and your brother have."

In response, Alecto whipped her wand towards him, shrieking a spell. Neville didn't have to know what the spell was, nor did he care—he simply braced for impact.

With a wind that rippled past him, the spell slashed his cheekbone, leaving a jagged line across his skin that burned on contact. Once the burning faded, the wound resorted to the harsh, pulsing pain of a fresh injury, and Neville could feel the blood trailing down his cheek, dripping from his chin.

Aside from rocking back a step, he had refused to back down, and he kept his chin high and fixed Alecto with a fierce glare, as if he hadn't just been injured.

Seeing that her target refused to budge, Alecto's nostrils flared, as if contemplating another spell she could use to put this upstart in his place. However, the class was over, and the woman had to concede a draw, for the moment.

"Class dismissed," she barked, stalking out of the room while the students filed silently out behind her, heads down, all pale with fear. The younger students dispersed into the small pond of students that still roamed the corridors of the school, while Neville headed for Transfiguration, mopping at the blood with the torn sleeve of his shirt.

He only looked up when fellow Gryffindor Seamus Finnegan fell in beside him. Seamus looked as if he had had betters days as well. One eye was blackened, while he attempted a smile through two puffy lips that leaked blood. Despite his injuries, his eyes were sparkling with good humor, as if he had just played a marvelous prank.

"Blimey," Neville breathed, keeping his voice low, "What you do to deserve that?"

Seamus' lips contorted into a gruesome, wide grin. "Carrow wanted me to Crucio a boy who had the guts to talk back to him. I refused, telling him I was too busy trying to figure out why He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named chose buggers like him to be Death Eaters. I told Carrow that I figured he was chosen for his stupidity, so He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would feel smart." Seamus's words were a little muffled by his injuries, but his eyes gleamed with triumph.

"Bloody hell, Seamus," Neville whispered fiercely, "he could have killed you for that! What were you thinking?"

Gesturing to Neville's still-bleeding cheek, Seamus offered the facsimile of a wry grin. "The same thing you were, mate."

Upon entering the Transfiguration classroom, they were immediately set upon by a harried Minerva McGonagall.

"Honestly, you two!" She hissed, leading them aside as students crowded into the classroom. It did not matter than Transfiguration was beyond their level—all students knew that Minerva McGonagall's classroom was one of the last safe havens left within Hogwarts.

"I don't want to have to attend the burial of my students while I'm still alive!"

Although her words were harsh, Neville could see the glimmer of pride that lay behind the worry and concern. McGonagall did what she could for all students, but she continued to reserve a special affection for the students of Gryffindor House.

"Longbottom, if you don't stop baiting Alecto, I can't promise she won't kill you."

Facing McGonagall, Neville offered a smile in the face of her concern. "You know I can't stop, Professor."

"I know you can't," McGonagall said ruefully, reaching out to place a hand on his arm—a rare gesture of affection. She understood that Neville and his friends were often the only ones that did anything to check the Carrows' reign of terror amongst the students.

"It's too much fun," Seamus chimed in, his words misshapen by puffy lips. His eyes twinkled wickedly as McGonagall turned to him, and she sighed, eyeing him with exasperated affection.

"You should take care with that 'fun,' of yours, Mr. Finnegan," she warned. "Some might not always share your amusement."

Sighing, McGonagall glanced over her shoulder at the filled classroom, all watching their discussion with interest and more than a little hope. "I suppose I must begin teaching before Severus descends," she commented wryly.

As Neville and Seamus started towards their usual seats, McGonagall waved them away. "Not you two. Go back to your rooms and clean up. You're excused."

Neville paused and turned back towards the stiff form of Minerva McGonagall. With her head held high, eyes flashing, daring anyone to threaten the students around her, she did not seem to be as old as Neville knew her to be.

"Come on, Seamus," Neville beckoned with a nod to McGonagall. "Let's go fix ourselves up. We aren't needed here at the moment."

* * *

><p>"The world's gone bloody mad," Seamus mumbled cheerfully as they turned for the third time and surveyed the solid door that had seemed to melt out of the wall before them. "We're all doomed."<p>

"That's the spirit," Neville shot wryly back, pulling open the door and following Seamus inside. "That's exactly the attitude a member of Dumbledore's Army should have."

"I'm not saying the world ending won't be fun," Seamus protested, following Neville past all the hammocks and walls decorated with school clothes. "I'm saying that it would just do to have some hope every bloody while."

Neville grunted with agreement, nearly before a solid wooden chest. Opening the lid, he extracted a jar and handed it to his friend, pulling the lid off to expose a pale green paste. "Careful with that," he warned. "We don't have much and there's no telling if we'll be able to get more."

"No idea if Pomfrey is being watched?" Seamus' words were coming out much clearer now, and Neville twisted around to find that the swelling in his lips were receding, as was the bruising around his eye.

"No," Neville grumbled, taking a bit of the salve and smearing it lightly on the gash that decorated his cheek. Unlike her brother, Alecto liked to ensure that her victim's felt the pain of her spells for weeks after, as Neville and his comrades had quickly discovered. Neville was sure it would be nearly a month before it completely healed.

"Any word from anyone?" Seamus asked, fiddling with the dial on a nearby radio, attempting to find the channel that broadcasted news of the wizarding resistance.

"Nothing," Neville sighed, leaning back against the chest. There were very few students here, in the middle of the afternoon. Gryffindor Tower had been all but abandoned, as students either didn't return after the holidays, or they had relocated here, to the Room of Requirement, which had become the base of resistance against the Carrows and their tyranny.

Neville surveyed the room, never completely relaxed. Although he was certain of their hiding place, he found that living in a world that was crumbling around him made one paranoid.

Listening absently to the radio, Neville found his gaze drawn to the wall hangings. The scarlet and gold of Gryffindor had been there since he had returned to his place, and the hammocks against that wall were the most numerous. Almost every student that had stayed at Hogwarts and considered themselves old enough to join the battle had relocated to this room.

The blue and bronze of the Ravenclaw banner caught his eye, and Neville noticed that a few more hammocks had appeared over the last few hours. He wondered who had joined, but knew that he would soon discover the answer to that tonight.

It felt odd to be a seventh year, to be only one of the few still in Hogwarts. Most of his friends, aside from Seamus, had not returned. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were either in hiding or on a mission, and Neville desperately wished that he could speak to them, to learn what their plan was, what he could do to help.

Ginny had not come back after Christmas—her family had gone into hiding, and she had gone with them. Luna had been taken from the train at Christmas by Snatchers, an event Neville still partially blamed himself for.

He remember her serene expression, and her silver eyes betrayed no fear as she followed the Snatchers from the train, looking for all the world as if she were leaving for the holidays, instead of being taken captive. No one knew of her whereabouts, and all of Neville's attempts to find out where she was being held had been fruitless. She could be in Azkaban, or being tortured by Snatchers. There were rumors that her father was a sympathizer with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and that Luna had been taken to ensure his cooperation, but nothing had been confirmed.

Neville closed his eyes, attempting to block out the memory of Luna's gentle good-bye on the train, the warm press of her hand against his, as if she were merely leaving for a few days and would be back shortly. Her quiet voice rang in his ears, and Neville shook his head, tears pricking at his eyes. Why hadn't he done something?

"Hey, mate." Seamus' voice broke into his tortured musings, and Neville looked up to find his friend gazing down at him in concern. "You okay?"

Passing a hand over his eyes, Neville banished any traces of tears, loath to show weakness when so many relied on him. When he glanced up, it was with steely determination.

"I can't wait for this war to be over."


	2. Part 2: The Return

**A/N: Welcome to Part 2 of The Raven and the Blade! Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Nothing you recognize is mine. It all belongs to JKR. **

* * *

><p>Part 2: The Return<p>

The shivering, bleeding form of an innocent child stared up him, the wide brown eyes betraying the memories of horrors witnessed too young. Neville felt his heart clench as he knelt beside the boy, no older than he was when he started here, and gritted his teeth. No child should have to spend part of their first year at Hogwarts living in terror, locked in the dungeon for the smallest slight, wondering if they would be left to die.

Neville had been sent down here by Amycus to torture these younger students, all of whom had received detention. Gone where the days of writing lines, cleaning vials, or even, once, answering fan mail. These were the darkest days of Hogwarts school, where children faced the punishment of being deprived of sustenance, tortured, and then tortured even more, often at the hands of different people.

Whimpering, the child glanced at the Stunned form beside Neville, but the man waved it away. "Don't mind him," he whispered, attempting a kind smile, "are you all right?"

Shakily, the child nodded, and Neville shoved the body of the Slytherin student aside—he didn't remember his name, only that he was too eager to come down here to torture others—and fit his crude key into the lock of the boy's manacles. The shackles were to ensure that no child would escape the punishing spell, or occasional physical beating that accompanied detention.

The key had come from a surprising place: Argus Filch. Despite his delight at the idea of torturing students during Umbridge's reign, Neville had been surprised to find that Filch could not stomach the violence shown by the Carrows. The key had been shoved into Neville's hand earlier that day by a nervous Filch, who mumbled, "Use it to get those little 'uns out of the dungeons," and hurried limped away, lest he be spotted performing a sympathetic action.

Neville made quick work of the boy's chains, and the child scrambled forward, surprisingly, into Neville's arms. "Shhh," he murmured, holding the boy as he shook with silent sobs, his tears wetting the man's shoulder. "It's all right, you're safe."

"Go wait by the door, okay?" Neville gave the boy a gentle shove, and went to work on the other students, all eagerly awaiting emancipation.

It nearly broke his heart to see the simple joy that radiated from their expression as they freed them. No human deserved to be locked in chains, and even a few hours had left some listless, drowned by the dark around them.

Ushering them ahead of him, Neville was halfway up the stairs when he froze. The heat suddenly radiating from his pocket could on be one thing: the DA Galleon that all members of Dumbledore's Army still kept.

"Quickly, quickly," he murmured, shepherding his small flock down the corridors, all nerves on alert for approaching footsteps and his wand held at the ready.

He had chosen the right time: There was rarely anyone awake in the wee hours of the morning. It was the reason that Neville had elected to go alone: one student out in the halls would not arouse suspicion, but two would elicit an investigation.

With the Galleon burning a hole in his pocket, Neville abandoned his original plan to take each student back to their respective tower. Instead, they would all go to the Room of Requirement, which he knew would provide the security these young children desperately needed.

Obedient and more than eager to follow the whims of their savior, the students trailed after him like a long line of threstral foals, eyes darting nervously, taking in the empty corridors, trembling with fear and adrenaline.

Pushing open the doors of the Room of Requirement, Neville noticed all visibly relax at the sight of the warm light that poured over them. Neville did not have to prompt them to enter the golden room; they raced forward as if it promised all the sweets in Honeydukes', and Neville followed them in, closing the door behind him.

"Now, which house do you belong to?"

Predictably, none of the battered students were from Slytherin, and Neville found that they were more than willing to follow an older house member to their respective corners, to be given a hammock and allowed to drift into an exhausted sleep.

Once they had all been settled, Neville located Ernie MacMillan, noticing that Seamus was conspicuously absent. Raising his Galleon in silent answer to Ernie's unspoken question, Neville frowned at the warm coin, glowing in his palm.

"Where's Seamus?"

Ernie shrugged. "Dunno. I was hoping you would know, actually. All the DA members left at Hogwarts are here, but Seamus is missing. Did he say what this meeting was about?"

Neville shook his head, mystified. "I have no idea."

In answer, the wooden doors leading to the darkened corridors creaked open, and Neville found himself turning to scrutinize the two figures that stood framed there.

The first was clearly Seamus, who strode forward, his dark hair windswept and looking for all the world as if he had just come back from a lovely afternoon jaunt, no matter that it was early in the morning.

The other…Neville found his breath catching in his throat. He knew that figure. But how…?

Luna Lovegood stepped into the warm Room of Requirement, a serene smile gracing her lips. She appeared to be as calm and unsurprised as ever, as if she had just stepped of the room, and hadn't been missing from Hogwarts for the last several months, her location unknown.

"Hello, all!" Seamus called cheerfully, bouncing into the room. "I've brought you a surprise!"

As Luna stepped further into the room, the door closing behind her, Neville saw that the war had not left her unscathed. Small scratches decorated her cheeks and forehead, and the purple-yellow of a fading black eye glistened from beneath her left eye. The dress she wore had seen better days, as it was tattered about the edges, and her blonde hair had been pulled from her braid, frizzing around her head in a tangled knot.

However, her silver eyes still radiated the same truth and kindness, and Neville found himself drawn forward, needing to confirm that she was the same old Luna, that the war had not taken her gentle and loving spirit from her.

The relief he felt when her silver eyes met his took his breath away, and his heart raced as she smiled up at him. "Hello, Neville. It's nice to see you again. Did you have a good holiday?"

At her soft voice, Neville reached forward to gather her slim form in his arms, feeling himself relax for the first time in months. He gave a watery chuckle at her inquiry as to his holiday, but couldn't help the smile that blossomed. Wherever she had been, it had failed to change her. He didn't realize how grateful he was that she was had not been altered entirely by the war raging around them. He needed someone to be his constant, and unknowingly, he had somehow chosen Luna. Perhaps it was merely her serene manner, but he derived some calm from her presence that he could not find anywhere else.

"As much as I like you, Neville," came a voice muffled in his chest, "I would like to greet my other friends now."

"Oh, of course." Neville hastily released her, pausing only for a moment to brush the hair from her eyes before moving away. Her skin was soft against his fingertips, and Neville watched her move into the eagerly waiting crowd of students, pleased to see that wherever she had been, she had not been starved.

Grabbing a beaming Seamus by the collar, Neville dragged his friend into a corner. "How did you find her?"

Seamus grinned, Luna's appearance bringing out better spirits than Neville had seen in months. It was amazing what a little hope would do for morale. "A call when out on the radio last night," he said cheerfully. "It was the oldest Weasley, Bill, saying that he had the moon and would really like to put her back where she belonged. Utter nonsense to anyone listening, but it made perfect sense to me."

"But how did you get here?" Neville demanded. "Did she come to you?"

"No," Seamus shook his head, watching as Luna was accepted back into the remnants of her house, Cho Chang's dark hair contrasting with Luna's pale locks. "I snuck out and found a thestral, nearly got caught by dementors first, and then I flew to Shell Cottage. The safe house," he added at Neville's curious glance. As Neville turned back to watch Luna, Seamus continued.

"Bill's wife wanted her to stay, insisting that she wasn't done healing, but Luna told her that she would return to Hogwarts. She was right insistent. That's the fiercest I've ever seen her."

"Luna has a mind of her own," Neville murmured absently, watching with an affectionate smile as the woman they were discussing spun in a happy, dizzy circle, her face alight with joy.

Seamus chuckled. "She does, mate, I will agree with you on that one. She's got a spirit that is hidden by that calm mask of hers."

"Excuse me, will you?" Neville muttered, clearly not paying attention to word Seamus had been saying. He strode through the mass of students, the tallest one there and easy to spot. Seamus watched with amusement as the dark head of his friend bent towards the pale one of the prodigal, and the two seemed to be absorbed in each other, despite Luna's rapid conversation with another Ravenclaw girl moments before.

* * *

><p>"You were <em>where<em>?" Neville felt his blood run cold at Luna's story, and he gazed down at her, disbelieving. "All this time, we thought you were in Azkaban! If I had known you were at Malfoy Manor, I would have come to get you!"

"That wouldn't have been wise," Luna observed, her silver eyes shading to gray as she remembered her incarceration. "Bellatrix is a powerful witch, and she was there almost all the time. Anyone trying to rescue me probably would have died."

Shaking his head in frustration, Neville squeezed her hand. "How long were you there?"

"I don't know, really," Luna mused, her voice taking on the dreamy quality that he knew so well. "I was busy taking care of Mr. Ollivander, you know, and he was so old and frail that at first I thought he was infected with—"

Cutting off what was sure to be Luna's speculation on what strange creature had infected the renowned wand-maker, Neville distracted her with another question.

"Did they hurt you, Luna?"

"No," Luna said firmly, her blond hair swinging against her cheeks with the motion. "No, only the beating they gave me after I dared to protest their treatment of Mr. Ollivander. It isn't right that they treat an old man so."

"They _beat_ you?" Neville growled, his hands curling into fists, wishing he could seek retribution on the men that had done that to her. "Where are you hurt?"

Luna gently touched her cheekbone, and Neville's hand followed her motion, brushing against her soft cheek again before lightly touching the fading bruise. Luna flinched at the faint pressure, and Neville quickly removed his hand, loath to cause her any more pain.

"That is the only place I still feel pain," Luna murmured. "There were some bruises, but they've faded now."

Neville let out a rushed breath he hadn't realized he had been holding, relief swamping him and making him nearly giddy.

"I'm glad you're all right," he whispered, lacing her fingers through his and gently squeezing.

Luna treated him to her serene smile, as if all was right in her world. "I'm glad to be back," she responded, her silver eyes shining as brightly as the celestial body she was named for.

As she attempted to smother a yawn, Neville reluctantly released her hand, realizing that it was now close to dawn, and they needed to sleep. The approaching day would only bring more tribulations.

But Neville didn't want to think about the crumbling school beyond these walls, or the poison the Carrows seemed determined to drip into their minds day by day. At this moment, Neville only wanted to enjoy these moments spent with his rescued friend, the woman he thought he might never see again.

"Good night, Neville." Her sweet voice jolted him from his thoughts, and he looked up to see her standing over him, ready to retire to her hammock.

Standing as well, Neville drew her in for another hug. She came willingly into his embrace, nestling against his chest with a trust that was so complete that Neville found his throat constrict. The faith that she placed in him with that gesture should have burdened him, as it did when he found the others looking to him for advice. Instead, Luna's faith was a gentle balm, a silent reminder of the fact that the entire world was not completely consumed by evil. There was still good to be found, even in the darkest corners of the world, where evil seemed to reign. Each person should cling to a light, a hope that carries them through the storms of life, and Neville had found his in Luna Lovegood.

"Good night, Luna," he whispered into her downy hair, finally releasing her. She smiled up at him, seemingly unaware of the epiphany he had just experienced.

Hope was an extraordinary thing, Neville Longbottom concluded as he turned towards the Gryffindor hangings, ready for sleep. The world could use a lot more of it.


	3. Part 3: Late Night Comforts

**A/N: And here is Part 3. **

**Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to JK Rowling. **

On the subject of Neville's Patronus, which appears in this part: I have scoured both the books and the Internet, but mention of Neville's Patronus has never been found. I even watched the OotP film, but there was no sign of it there, either. So, as there is no official word on Neville's Patronus, I took the liberty of creating one for him. I would welcome comments on the form I have chosen.

* * *

><p>Part 3: Late Night Comforts<p>

The Room of Requirement was dark, as many of its occupants were asleep. Many of them fell into an exhausted sleep, tired of a long day of keeping the Carrows at bay and nursing numerous wounds. As the end of the year approached, each person's thoughts seemed to turn to the man who had not yet appeared: Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the man who was now destined to defeat Voldemort. Morale had slumped slightly in the past few months, as little news about Harry and his companions made their way to Hogwarts, guarded as it was by Death Eaters and Snatchers.

Neville Longbottom—interim leader of the rebellion of Hogwarts students and the current leader of the remnants of Dumbledore's Army—couldn't sleep. Today had not been a good day, and lately it seemed as if evil was gaining the upper hand. Wincing at the long gash in his arm, Neville wrapped and rewrapped the bandage as he sat in his hammock, sleep eluding him.

Too much had gone wrong today. Aside from the slice he had accrued—which was trivial in the face of all the other wounds he had received in the past few months—Seamus had been beaten unconscious for refusing to torture and mutilate the body of a third year girl who had foolishly attempted to free the latest prisoners from the dungeons on her own.

The girl's death was one Neville blamed himself for, as he was the one who determined when they attempted to rescue those held in the dungeons. He should have been clearer about when they should go—the girl's partner had been unaware that her friend had descended without her. By the time she had figured it out, it was too late, and she had narrowly avoided being caught by Amycus Carrow as he brought the limp body of his captive to an empty classroom.

Seamus had refused to participate in such a disgusting act, and his rebellion had inspired the other students to refuse as well. The Carrows were getting smarter. Instead of threatening the weakest, they had discovered that taking out the instigator meant they could cow the others into submission.

From what Neville had heard, it had been a terrific fight, but by the time he had McGonagall had reached the classroom, it was already over. Neville closed his eyes, wishing he could erase the sight of Seamus, bloody and beaten, stretched out on the stone floor as if already dead.

Overriding Carrow's vicious attempts to cause more pain, McGonagall had Seamus transported to the under-used hospital wing, where he was been carried for by a harried Madame Pomfrey. If Neville had his way, Seamus would have been resting in the comfort of his hammock with someone to guard him at all times, but he had to concede that Madame Pomfrey was better prepared to deal with such injuries than his ragtag band of desperate students.

A soft silver light pulsed just beyond Neville's vision, and he turned his head, instantly alert. He was certainly that no one in this room meant them any harm—they had all proved their loyalty to Dumbledore's cause several times over—but he was pulled by curiosity. Who else could be up in the middle of the night?

Sliding out of his hammock, Neville winced at the cold stone under his bare feet. Sometime when he had a moment, he really needed to ask the Room for some rugs. A whispered "_Lumos_" provided him with enough light to see by, and he followed the flickering light to its source.

Of all the people he expected to see, Luna Lovegood was not one of them. Dressed in a white nightgown that was embroidered with strange silver designs, her blond hair tumbling loose down her back, she did not seem to be human, but merely one of the ghosts that roamed the castle corridors.

She moved her wand ponderously, and Neville finally discovered the source of the light he had seen across the room.

Luna's silver Patronus hopped around her, the ears of the hare alert and ready for the nearest sign of dementors. As Neville was certain none could enter the school, he wondered what Luna was doing with her Patronus.

"Luna?"

His soft question clearly startled her, as the hare paused and flickered. Then she regained her concentration and got a better grasp on her memory, as the form strengthened again, and the hare resumed movement.

"Hello, Neville," she said calmly, her voice a gentle whisper in the silence around him. She did not seem surprised to see him awake and at her side, and she gestured to the spot on the stone beside her, her eyes still on the hare bounding before her.

"What are you doing up?" Neville whispered, keeping his wand lit for the sake of being able to see Luna's face.

"I couldn't sleep," was the matter-of-fact reply. "You?"

"The same," Neville admitted, watching as the hare finally stopped moving and hovered above the stone, appearing to graze.

Turning towards him, Luna's pale brows drew together in concern. "Something's bothering you."

It wasn't a question, and not for the first time, Neville found himself marveling at her intuition. "I feel like we're losing the battle," he admitted, grateful for the darkness that would hide his shame.

"Hmmm," Luna murmured, watching her hare with affection, "I understand. I feel that way sometimes. That's why I came here."

"What are you doing here?" Neville asked, turning towards her.

Luna's silver eyes reflected her Patronus as a smile flitted around the corners of her lips. Instead of answering, she gestured to the silvery form before her. "Do you know what a Patronus is, Neville?"

Blinking at the abrupt change of subject, Neville nodded. "Of course I do. It's a charm that is made up of a memory, and it's used to repel dementors and the like."

Luna nodded, smiling at his answer. "Very good. Do you know why I conjured my Patronus tonight?"

Mystified, Neville shook his head, watching the way the light from her Patronus gave the illusion of her blond hair being laced with silver strands, like bits of moonlight.

Luna's gentle smile seemed to hold all the answers to all the mysteries of the universe. "A Patronus is made of memories. The only memories that can repel Dark creatures are ones of love, ones of happiness, ones of hope."

Luna leaned forward, suddenly looking more serious than Neville had ever seen her. "This school is not as it was. It has become dark, and evil seems to have seeped into every stone. This Patronus is to remind me—and you—that there have been better times, and there will be better times again, soon."

Neville stared at her, gaping. How did she come to that conclusion? How could a witch such as she—talented, beautiful, having been tortured and having witnessed some truly horrible things—still be optimistic, still look for the brighter side of every darkened situation? Perhaps that was why her presence was such a comfort to him—the hope and faith she exuded was an efficient way to calm his fears.

Leaning forward as well, Neville rested his forehead against hers, enchanted by the blue-white reflections in her silver eyes. "Luna, that's brilliant."

At his close proximity, Luna's smile faded somewhat, and her breathing increased. Gesturing to his still-lit wand, Luna looked up into his dark eyes and made a simple request.

"Remind yourself."

Raising the warm wood, Neville focused on the letter in his breast pocket, the letter he was never without. Receiving it was a moment he would always remember, and he knew that its contents were ones he would never forget.

_…courage will keep you strong. You are your parents' son, and I have never been more proud of you than I am at this moment. _

_Your loving and proud grandmother, _

_Augusta_

With a whispered "_Expecto Patronum_," Neville's Patronus slid from the end of his wand, stretching its lithe body as it took shape, as if it had just woken from a long nap.

Luna watched as the silver mongoose padded over to her hare, and the two appeared to touch noses in an animal greeting. "I've never seen your Patronus before."

"I don't use it often," Neville admitted, feeling a faint twinge of embarrassment as his weasel-like Patronus cavorted before them, supported by the memory of making his austere grandmother proud. He still remember the first time he had successfully conjured the charm, and the disappointment had he felt when a mongoose emerged.

"They are interesting creatures, aren't they?" Luna mused, smiling as the mongoose chased her hare.

"Interesting?" Neville blinked. No one had ever used _that _term for his Patronus before.

"They seem like such timid creatures," Luna continued, as if he hadn't interjected, "but once they are confronted with their mortal enemies, the snake, they become the most courageous creature, often attacking the snake one-on-one. It is very rare to see a mongoose lose such a battle."

Soothed by her words and bolstered by her confidence, Neville watched as the mongoose seemed to grow bigger, and the glow around him intensified.

"See?" Luna smiled at him, her warm hand finding his. "Hope is never far."

Neville returned the smile, feeling his earlier worries slide away in the face of her determined optimism. Impulsively, he pressed his lips to her cheek, and even the faint light of the two wands could not disguise the blushes that mantled both cheeks.

"We should both get some sleep," Neville filled the silence awkwardly, standing to his full height and offering Luna his hand. With a flick of his wand, the mongoose faded from view, and Luna's hare gave one last defiant bound before fading as well.

Luna's cheeks still bore a pink flush from his unexpected kiss, and she seemed so vulnerable, looking up at him.

"Good night, Luna," Neville said quietly, backing away before he gave in to the impulses that were rising fast—most prominently, the one that demanded that he take her into his arms and kiss her fully. Where had that come from?

Minutes later, Neville found himself back in his hammock, and his worries seemed oddly distant now, far from crushing him as they had threatened to before. He would deal with them in the morning.

Sleep came quickly and easily that night, much to his relief.


	4. Part 4: The Dawn

**A/N: And here is the final part, which takes place during the Final Battle of Hogwarts. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I just like to play with JK Rowling's creations on occasion. **

* * *

><p>Part 4: The Dawn<p>

Hogwarts was in chaos, and Neville Longbottom couldn't have been happier.

Well, perhaps _happy_ was not the right word. He was relieved, relieved and ready to act. Harry Potter and his friends had arrived, he was given custody of the Sword of Gryffindor and a task, and the Battle of Hogwarts had finally begun.

One side or the other would win this war, and after all the months he had spent fighting on these grounds, Neville was determined to win.

But first, he needed to find Luna. After spending months at her side, growing more and more protective of the beautiful and talented witch, Neville had finally come to the conclusion that he was in love with her.

Actually, Seamus had pointed it out to him, and Neville had spent many weeks denying it, but with the last battle bearing down on them, Neville had decided the time had come to confess his feelings.

After all, they might be dead by dawn, so why shouldn't he?

Surging through the chaotic whirlpool of Hogwarts students that were all attempting to find a good place to hide or fight or arm themselves properly, Neville bounded up the stairs towards the Great Hall, knowing there was only one place Luna would be while all was descending to madness around them.

Or, as Seamus cheerfully put it as he bolted by in pursuit of a Death Eater, "The world is ending, mate! Have some fun!"

Neville could not help the grin that spread over his face, the adrenaline in his body doubling his pace. This war would end today, that he knew. He just needed to find Luna first.

* * *

><p>Surprisingly, the doors to the Great Hall were still on their hinges, and even though most of the stone was crumbling and the windows barely stayed in their frames, Neville found that the elegance of the once proud hall could not be denied. Shutting the door behind him, Neville found that they blocked out the noise quite effectively. Except for the screams and bellows that traveled through the glass-less windows from the courtyard, it seemed as if the battle didn't even exist.<p>

While the enchanted ceiling roiled with storm clouds, reflecting the torrent that raged beyond the doors, the dawn could be seen over the horizon, staining the sky with the pale colors that heralded a brilliant sunrise.

Someone else had retreated to this large space in order to escape the chaos, and Neville found himself smiling fondly at the slim figure framed in the window.

He did not approach her, not yet. Instead, he silently stood and took in the picture she made, imprinting the tableau before him in his memory so he would always have it.

Years later, when asked about the Battle Hogwarts, this was the image that would first come to Neville Longbottom's mind, before he launched into the heroic story that his listener always wanted to hear.

The stones barely held the window frame in place, and all the glass had been destroyed by Death Eaters and miscast spells some time in the early stages of the battle. Oblivious to the debris around her, Luna Lovegood watched the sunrise, seeming not to hear the battle raging below her, not seeming to see the grime and grit that covered her clothing.

Her wand was held loosely at her side, and Luna seemed to be enthralled by the color palate that was blooming across the sky. Her blonde hair was tinted red by the light of the sun's first bloody rays, and her silver eyes seemed to absorb the color before her and return it to the sky.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Luna turned to find Neville standing beside her, looking for all the world like a strong warrior who had stepped from the pages of the strange tales her father used to read her as a child.

Smeared with blood and dirt, Neville was far from handsome. However, his charm did not come from his physique, but instead from the confidence with which he held himself, from the expert way that he wielded the sword currently held at rest at his side, the shining point digging into the loose stones beneath them.

He turned to look at her, and Luna shivered at the heat evident in his dark eyes. She turned her gaze back to the sunrise, lest he see the answering call in her own, the cry that came from her beating heart.

"It is," she conceded.

Although they were alone, neither spoke above a whisper, loath to break the magical silence stretching between them, spun by the spreading sunrise and the feelings between them, yet unspoken.

"Luna…" Neville trailed off, and Luna looked up to find him studying the sunrise as if it was the first one he had ever seen. The orange rays lit his face with bronze, and Luna was reminded of the knight statues she had seen earlier, striding bravely into the fray in order to protect the castle.

"Do you think we'll survive?"

Luna had been expecting this question, and at his desperate gaze, she gave him a comforting smile, hoping to reassure him.

"We have Harry Potter," she said simply. "How can we not?"

This calm statement summoned a weak chuckle from the man beside her, and he turned fully to face her, the beauty of the sunrise painting the sky forgotten.

The noise of the battle seemed to rush back into the Great Hall, filling the silence as Luna gazed up at Neville, suddenly aware of her own vulnerability. There was a fierce light in Neville's eyes, one she had seen many times before. It was the same light that shone when he stood up to the Carrows, it was the same light that shone when another student was saved from their cruelty, and it was the same light that shone when Harry, Ron, and Hermione reappeared, bringing the promise of ending the war.

Luna had always recognized that light as being indicative of Neville's fighting spirit, of his desire to protect all those he cared about, but never had she seen that expression directed at her.

Trembling, Luna stood as a startled deer, posed for flight. Neville took a step forward, offering a gentle smile, attempting not to spook her further. His fingers came up to trace her cheek in a familiar gesture, but this time, his palm rested against her cheek, his thumb stroking her cheekbone.

Luna blushed under his intense gaze, but she did not avert her own. Aware of her own vulnerability, aware of his, suddenly, painfully, desperately aware of her own mortality in a way she never had before, Luna realized that these might be the last moments they would spend together.

"Neville…" Her voice came out in a breathy whisper, and Neville leaned down to hear it better, his gaze on her lips.

"Luna," he whispered, his voice rumbling in his chest, "if we die today, I want you to know that you have given me hope. Your faith has keep me going when I wanted to give up, and I have to tell you, I—"

Luna's lips on his cut off the rest of his statement, but Neville found he didn't truly mind. Dropping the sword with a _clang_, Neville wrapped his arms around Luna's small frame, lifting her off the floor.

Her lips were warm and accepting under his, and Neville found himself reluctant to pull away. He wanted to stay here, with her fingers buried in his hair, her arms wrapped around his neck, her warm body pressed against his.

Luna looked up to find Neville bearing a crooked smile. "Do you feel the same way, then?"

Her only response was to kiss him again.

Setting her back down on the floor, Neville brushed his fingertips against her lips, a motion that left her tingling. "I have to get back," he murmured. "Harry gave me a job to do. I only came to find you first."

Lifting her wand, Luna picked up the Sword of Gryffindor and handed it to him. "It would be best if you do that," she conceded, unable to keep the smile from her face.

Reaching out his hand, Neville took hers. Squeezing it, he glanced down at her, that fierce light returning, looking every inch a warrior who could take down armies on his own.

Luna's silver eyes reflected the hope that he felt as they strode towards the double doors, back to the battle that was raging on the other side.

"Are you ready?"

Lifting her wand, Luna gave Neville a fierce grin. He returned it, raising the sword in a salute to her bravery, to her hope, to her faith.

"It's time to finish this."


End file.
